


Everybody Wants to Rule the World

by MakkachinOnIce



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Characters, Alternate Universe, Alternate universe - Mafia, Bodyguard! Otabek, Evil Schemes and shit, F/M, M/M, Mafia AU, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Mafia!Mila, Mafia!Yuri, More tags in the next updates, Surgeon!JJ, mafia!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-22 05:29:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9585491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakkachinOnIce/pseuds/MakkachinOnIce
Summary: "I know that your loyalty lies with Yuri, being his friend and all.” Yakov said. “But I put faith in you putting duty above everything else.”“So you have already decided to make Mila the capo famiglia even before you came up with this meeting?”“Yes. She suits the role, believe me. Though I believe you have an awful first impression of her.”There were no words that could be used to deny that. Otabek has always been honest when it comes to his opinion on people.The lack of response made the old capo laugh heartily. “Hit the nail right in the head.”(So it's an AU where Otabek has to protect Mila from her enemies - not that she needs it, really)





	1. A Family Affair

**Author's Note:**

> So I know not everyone likes this ship, but like hell I care. I want to write, and here I am.  
> Mila to me has always been a badass girl, and if ever Otabek would return her crush on him, it’d probably be for that reason. A hero for a heroine. The main protagonist’s leading lady, who will not be your average damsel in distress, but a warrior who will fight beside him. Anyway…
> 
> YOI is made by Kubo-sensei and her crew. Pardon for errors made in grammar and spelling. I am my own beta reader *cries*. 
> 
> Please enjoy.
> 
> Douzo!

There was nothing ordinary about the Common Room, that's for certain. An opulent sitting room located behind the heavy oakwood double doors of a certain eight-acre mansion, in a lush, island estate which could only be found in the outskirts of the city. It was richly designed to suit the classic taste of the Don, and undoubtedly it suited the family’s power and splendor. French windows draped with thick crimson curtains matched the mahogany color of the antique furniture. The upholstery were black in color, gilded stylishly. And the Persian rug was imported, and was often changed - depending on whether somebody spills some blood on it or not.

Otabek Altin inevitably wondered, after realizing that he was standing on a rug different from the one he saw just yesterday, if such a thing happened without his knowledge. But he did not bother asking the Don himself, for he was sitting behind the desk and eyeing him directly.

Yakov Feltsman was, at the very least, a man who immediately gave a strong impression, almost like a warning, that he was someone whom you would never dare trifle with. A stern sixty year old Russian man, age had made him bald and past experiences made him wear creases on his face. He kept his grim expression most of the time, just like today. He stared at Otabek as if he was yet pondering whether he was worth telling him anything at that moment or not.

"I had to torment a man who wasn't able to pay a huge debt, in case you were wondering," the Don said, speaking in a leveled tone despite admitting a violent act.

"I apologize for being intrusive." Otabek remained in his usual stoic expression, keeping cool despite himself.

"Nonsense. It's all right." Yakov waved his hand offhandedly. Even this gesture was able to make him look more austere. "Everyone knows about it."

Otabek nodded. "Well then. I would like to know what brings me here."

"You always get straight to the point, don't you?" Yakov arched an eyebrow at him, and then heaved a sigh. The old capo must have expected it from the family's longtime guardian, the best of the best amongst the famiglia’s soldiers.

Otabek has been serving the Feltsman family since the days of his youth. He had taken part in so many of the family's activities that it was as if he was one of Yakov's children himself. Growing up, Otabek gained the composure of a Greek statue, ceaselessly observant throughout the years, and coldly responding to any situation. He was someone whom any boss in the criminal world would need in the most important times.

Just like today, for instance.

"I am gathering them here," Yakov said, his grim tone hinting a bad omen for Otabek. "The family needs to have a talk."

* * *

* * *

Yakov's children were not his biological offsprings, but in the Mafia world the family is more than about true relations. Loyalty was a heavier than blood, after all.

It took a long while before Yakov's children arrived, one by one. Otabek had to stand in one corner of the room, on guard, alert for any trouble that might occur that day.

The first to come into the Common Room was Yuri Plisetsky, the youngest and happened to be the one whom Otabek knew the most. They have been friends since the day they first met, and to Otabek he was the like the younger brother he never had.

There was the look of recognition shared between him and Yuri, and Otabek gave a quiet nod as a form of greeting. Yuri's lips curled into a smile, which was immediately replaced by a scowl the moment he stared at Yakov.

"I have to check one of the casinos today. This better be quick," he said, or rather growled, at the older man.

"You will be waiting here today, whether you like it or not," Yakov replied, sternly. "Sit down. I won't be talking till all of you have arrived."

There was the familiar look of disgust on Yuri's face, Otabek noticed. He had seen this kind of expression quite often as they grew up together, more particularly whenever the idea of a family gathering comes to mind. Otabek couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with Yuri's personality, or there really was an animosity between him and Yakov's other children.

But angry as he may be, even Yuri knew that there was no point in arguing with the Boss. In the end he sat, grumpily, in one of the  chairs in the room.

The next to arrive was Georgi Popovich. With his dark brown hair, melancholy deep blue eyes, and occasionally (more often dramatically) gloomy demeanor, Otabek believed that this man was the kind that people wouldn't think of as Mafia. But this worked to Georgi's advantage; rumors around say that he was able to run multiple businesses, both legal and not, across the world.

Georgi remained standing in the doorway, looking at the entire room as if searching for something. "Mila and Viktor aren't here yet?"

"What else do you expect?" Yuri answered. "Mila never arrived early. And god knows where Viktor is."

"The last I've heard, he was expanding his enterprise in Japan." Georgi walked over and sat onto a chair opposite of Yuri.

"Heh. He's probably fooling around with his pig of a lover." The contempt was apparent in Yuri's voice. It wasn't even surprising to Otabek; the strong rivalry between Yuri and Viktor had been common knowledge amongst the family members since god knows when.  He had seen them as they grew up together, and as much as Yuri and Viktor have different personalities, they also shared a lot of similar traits. Both were undeniably beautiful, in a way that surpassed the thin boundaries of sexuality, and both were known for their ambitiousness to the point of bloodlust. Both of them were adamant in their will to take over the title of _capo famiglia_ one day. Yuri was even more blatant, especially when he was talking to the current Don.

Viktor, on the other hand, was more of a mystery to Otabek. Years have passed and said man was often away from home. It was said that Viktor was steadfast in helping the Feltsman in their expansion. It was also rumored that Viktor was building an empire of his own.

But if there be a known fact about Viktor, the most elusive of Yakov's children, it was that he has a Japanese male lover. Viktor never hid his sexuality despite his nationality as Russian and position as _caporegime_. The moment he started going out with his lover, the first thing he did was to bring him to family dinner to meet the rest of the group. And while this gesture raised the eyebrows of many a Mafioso, no one dared to say anything against the man. It was pretty much understandable.

To Otabek, Russia may be cruel to gay people, but Viktor Nikiforov was even more dangerous.

"He is Viktor's secretary. And he is a capable man," Georgi said with a frown.

"Oh, he is capable, all right,” Yuri responded with a leer, “especially in bed."

"You're one to talk," a smooth voice spoke, a tone playful and cold at once. All heads turned towards the entrance, where Viktor Nikiforov was standing. Behind him was a meek-looking young man wearing a pair of eyeglasses – Yuuri Katsuki, the rumored Japanese man and Viktor's lover. Otabek had rarely seen him during meetings like this, but he noticed the change in Yuuri's appearance every single time. He somehow understood why Yuri would call the Japanese man a pig; there was plumpness in Yuuri Katsuki's cheeks which was a stubborn reminder of his formerly overweight physique. But now he also observed the lithe but powerful arms under the sleeve of Yuuri's black Armani suit, and the dexterity of his black gloved hands.

"Clearly, I didn't expect to hear that from **_you_ ** , out of all people," Viktor told Yuri, speaking while wearing his famous smile which had sugarcoated many insults and threats for years. "Especially since you have been hanging out in Canada with your sugar daddy..."

“He is merely an _associate_ ,” Yuri hissed. Otabek stared at him through the corner of his eye, and could see the furious expression on the young man’s face, from the fire in those emerald green eyes to the angry curve of his mouth. Of all the Feltsmans, Yuri was certainly the one with the most honest of emotions.

“Oh, you have a wonderful associate then.” Viktor answered coldly. “Rumor has it that Alain Leroy is a top pick in the upcoming election. Jean-Jacques must be very proud, seeing his father making it big in the world of politics.” Viktor approached Yakov and gave the old man a kiss on the cheek, a form of greeting for a dear family. “So what brings us here, Papa?”

“Sit down,” Yakov commanded with a frown. “We’ll talk later when _she_ arrives.”

Viktor shrugged. “If you say so,” he answered offhandedly. He then walked over to an armchair right beside where Yuri was sitting, and sat with one leg carelessly slung over the other. Yuuri, being a fellow soldier, decided to stand beside Otabek in the corner of the Common Room.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whined, almost childishly. “Come sit here.” He patted the armrest as he smiled at the Japanese young man.

Otabek glanced at the secretary. Yuuri’s face was flushed with embarrassment. Then again, being a lover of a Mafioso facing the top members of the family, it was only understandable.

Yuuri did as his lover told him to do: he walked towards him slowly, before settling himself on the armrest of the chair. Viktor smiled, this time an honest and sincere one, and he placed his hand on his lover's thigh affectionately. Otabek could hear Yuri groan in disapproval, while Georgi and Yakov remained silent.

There was another long moment of silence, even more painful to Otabek's ears than when Yuri and Viktor had their petty banter a while ago. Despite his relentless and stoic demeanor, even he would feel impatient at this point. The only daughter among Yakov's children, Mila Babicheva sure was the spoiled girl. Or at least, that's what his impression of her was.

Otabek was no beginner when it comes to women; he had no idea why, but he was naturally popular among ladies for his good looks, not to mention the fact that his brooding and reserved personality seemed to be his best charm. Hence he had experienced having a woman in his arms - and truth be told, it wasn't a pleasurable experience for him. To Otabek, women resembled the belladonnas in the Feltsman mansion's garden - beautiful they may be, but they were also poisonous.

Mila seemed to be just like everyone else. Not that he had known her for a long time.

"Sorry for being late."

Otabek had to look up - he hadn't realized that he had been deep in thought - when he heard a voice, speaking with a playful tone like Viktor, but sweeter and more honest - as of it was natural, as if it will never meant anything wrong. It was then that he set his eyes upon the soft, messy curls of her crimson red hair, and eyes blue like the clear ocean when the sun strikes its light on a beautifully bright day. The long sleeves of her black silk blouse seemed to give her the aura of classic conservativeness, but her tight jeans and high heeled boots spoke of a woman that's ready for anything.

Mila Babicheva sure was just like every other woman - save the fact that she was more beautiful, and carried herself with regal confidence that could only come from a lady of powerful position. She might be a spoiled brat, but she was undoubtedly a Mafioso.

"You don't sound regretful at all." Yuri was the first to answer her. Mila curled her lips into a smile.

"This is precisely why you never get laid," she said icily. "You never had the patience to wait for a lady."

It was a remark that made Viktor whistle in appreciation of perfect wit and savagery. Yuri grunted inaudibly in annoyance.

Despite the earlier exchange of words, Mila gave her brothers a kiss: an endearing peck on Georgi's cheek, a kiss on Viktor's forehead, and a sisterly caress followed by her messing up Yuri's blond locks. She then gave Yakov a warm hug, which the old man accepted just like a normal father would.

"I had matters to take care of at the Amazon Lily," she told the Don. "I am sorry it took so long for me to arrive."

"Never mind that," Yakov replied, sounding affectionate for the first time in a long while. "Have a seat."

Otabek’s gaze followed her as she moved around. Mila took a seat beside Georgi. There was an exchange of glances, a sibling-like connection between her and the other man, which Otabek found similar to him and Yuri. It was clear that among her brothers, Mila got along with Georgi the most.

“Having problems with your business?” Georgi asked.

Mila shook her head. “It's not a big deal. How’s your wife, by the way?”

“The usual. Anya always had something to be upset about.” Georgi heaved a weary sigh. Mila rolled her eyes in disapproval.

It was at this point when her eyes had set their sights on Otabek. Mila’s ocean blue orbs twinkled in delight, and her rouge-stained lips curled into a flirty smile. “I just realized. You even got me an eye candy for today.”

Otabek inevitably looked at her in wonder. “Excuse me?”

“Who? Otabek?” Yuri raised an eyebrow. “Have you seriously no shame?”

If Mila even heard what the blond man said, she outrightly ignored him. She crossed her legs and stared at Otabek, focusing her entire attention on him. This was the kind of attention that many men would want from a beautiful woman - the look that meant **_I could be all yours - yours only_ **.

Eyes dark with desire, even Otabek could realize that she was already undressing him in her mind.

“You’ve been staring at me.” She purred. It sounded like a taunt, like a challenge for the stoic man to keep doing what he was doing. A message to keep his eyes on her and her alone.

Mila Babicheva was just like every other woman, except that she never held back.

“Pardon me for doing so.” Otabek apologized.

“No, I don't mind.” Mila giggled softly. “I like it when a hot guy can't take his eyes off me.”

“Ugh,” Yuri groaned. “Can we just start the meeting now? I couldn't stand Viktor AND you being a bunch of flirts at the same time!”

“All right, that's enough.” Yakov spoke. All heads turned to look at him, even Yuri and Viktor themselves. The capo famiglia's authority was something that none of them would dare disobey.

“I have something to say.” Yakov began his speech with a sigh - an uncharacteristic gesture, Otabek noticed. The old man never showed signs of exhaustion throughout the years.

There was a feeling of apprehension all of a sudden, a sense of panic that Otabek could not ignore.

“I am retiring soon,” Yakov said. “Naturally, one of you will take over the role of the capo famiglia. And I will be the one to choose who it's gonna be.”

 

* * *

* * *

  


The look of disbelief among Yakov's children was evident. Even Viktor and Yuri could not believe what they were hearing.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Yuri asked. He sounded as if he was about to laugh.

“But why?” Mila asked. “You are alive and still capable - “

“I won't wait till I am dead,” Yakov told her, in a rather calm voice. “I need to do this as soon as possible. I am not leaving the world and the family without a leader to look after it.”

“So who's it gonna be?” Viktor asked. He was the only one among to remain cool about the sudden decision of the Don.

It was a question that only he was brave to ask. And soon the effect of those words immediately brought tension amongst Yakov's children. Otabek could see the creases on Yuri as he frowned. Georgi looked more sullen than ever, while Mila - her face was blank, as if she was still internalizing what the capo famiglia had jist said.

“I haven't decided - for now. But let me get this straight,” Yakov narrowed his eyes at them, his tone becoming threatening all of a sudden. “I am not going to pick one of you brats simply by favor. If you're gonna replace me, you better make sure you actually got the knack for it.”

“Oh, that's not much of a problem,” Viktor said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I can handle work just fine.”

Yuri just had to glare at the other man. It wasn't hard for Otabek to anticipate a bloody fight; it was a natural occurrence in the Common Room, after all.

“What are you trying to say?” The younger man said, in a threatening tone.

Silence filled the room as tension formed between the two male Mafiosos. It had been a battle of wits from the beginning; the better man being the one who remains unfazed throughout the argument, and in this instance it was obvious that Viktor was the winner. He smiled victoriously at Yuri, who could only respond with a furious glare.

“Well, you can count me out,” Mila spoke. “I have no interest in taking over.”

Everyone had to stare at the red-haired lady. It was as if she had spoken in a foreign language; as if declining the opportunity to become the most powerful criminal lord was such an absurd thing.

“Mila.” Yakov sounded a tad disappointed for once. This was something that did not escape Otabek’s ears, and he was certain that Viktor, Yuri, and Georgi noticed it as well.

“Look,” Mila began to explain herself. “I already find my businesses a real handful. What makes you think that I can handle an entire syndicate? I am more than satisfied with earning more than enough, thank you.”

“Well then,” Viktor spoke pleasantly, “that narrows down your choices, Papa.”

It was apparent that Yakov did not like idea of choosing amongst his other three caporegimes. He closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows, and it was no longer hard to see the marks of age on his austere image.

“I said that I am yet to make my decision.” He told them. “I just spoke to you as early as possible, just to let you know. That's all.”

A hush of silence, and no one dared to move. Yakov frowned even more.

“Just go. Do what you think is best for the family.” He told them. “Now leave.”

By then Yuuri had already opened the door for Viktor. He left the Common room, quick and graceful in movement. Yuuri kept the door open as the others left: Yuri angrily striding away, Mila and Georgi leaving in silence together - but Mila was able to wink at Otabek before she stepped out of the room.

Yuuri eyed Otabek in wonder. The family guardian just shook his head.

“You can go, Yuuri.” Yakov ordered the Japanese man. “I need to talk to him.”

Yuuri bowed, a respectful gesture common among the people from the Orient, before he went on his way.

Otabek remained where he was; after finding out what the family meeting was all about, he already knew what his role would be in the matter.

“I think you already understand the sticky situation you’re gonna be in.” Yakov told him. “This is nothing like your usual bodyguard work.”

“I understand.” It was the only thing that Otabek could say at the moment. With the announcement of the Don’s retirement, hell was certainly about to break loose.

“I know that your loyalty lies with Yuri, being his friend and all.” Yakov said. “But I put faith in you putting duty above everything else.”

“So you have already decided to make Mila the capo famiglia even before you came up with this meeting?”

“Yes. She suits the role, believe me. Though I believe you have an awful first impression of her.”

There were no words to be used to deny that. Otabek has always been honest when it comes to his opinion on people.

The lack of response made the old capo laugh heartily. “Hit the nail right in the head.”

“Pardon my rudeness, sir.”

“Pah! I like your honesty. And Mila does need some modesty - unfortunately, none of them listens to my advice anymore.” Yakov replied. “But let's get back to the topic. You have seen Vitya and Yura; it won't be surprising if the two suddenly decide to kill each other off. And knowing them, they will certainly get Mila involved.”

“And Georgi?”

“Georgi is happily settled down; he won't do anything to risk his family, and everyone knows that. The only threat on his life at this point is his own beloved wife.” Yakov sounded utterly displeased upon mentioning Anya, Georgi's wife. It seemed the woman had a bad reputation, even among criminals. “He will be all right. If there's anyone who's not going to be safe here, it would be Mila.”

It was understandable, Otabek thought. Mila may have backed away from taking over the position as capo famiglia, but if she was capable enough for Yakov to put his trust in her, then she could still give Viktor and Yuri a run for the money.

 **_Especially Viktor,_ ** Otabek said to himself, **_that merciless man_ **.

It brought him back to his younger days, when he was still a young lad hoping to make it to the top ranks in the Mafia. There were a lot of things happening in the Feltsman mansion, and none of them were pleasant: Viktor in his glorious beauty and splendor, his long, platinum blonde hair stained with blood as he cruelly tormented and killed his enemies.

**_God help anyone who would get in his way._ **

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

By the time Yuuri Katsuki got out of the mansion, the black Cadillac was already waiting at the front gate, with Viktor Nikiforov inside. He climbed into the driver's seat, turned the ignition on, and drove away from the place.

“The decision has already been made, it seems.” Viktor commented while looking outside the window of the car.

“It was clear that the Don has already chosen Mila,” Yuuri replied, his eyes looking at the road ahead. “I think Otabek Altin has been assigned to guard her.”

“Interesting.” Viktor's lips curled into a smile. “Yuri has the upper hand then, considering the fact that he is friends with him.”

“We can kill Mila and put the blame on Yuri Plisetsky.”

“I love the way you think.” Viktor chuckled softly. “But we will need to make that plan flawless…”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

Yuri knew that the decision has already been made. Yakov had always favored Mila; she was like the daughter that he never had. Yuri himself was also favored by the Don, but that's because he was the youngest - unfortunately this was also the bane of his existence, because it was hard to gain the respect of the entire Mafia when they think you lacked experience.

But he has an advantage. He has a powerful ally.

He felt his phone vibrate within the pocket of his tailor-made pants. He answered the call immediately - the voice of the man speaking on the other line was smooth, but Yuri was not in the mood to appreciate it.

“Hello, _chaton_. How did the family picnic go?”

“What took you so long to call?” Yuri asked angrily.

“You should keep in mind that I do four surgeries a day, at the very least.”

“I don't care.” Yuri tried his best to hide the agitation in his voice, but he failed. And it wasn't as if he could hide anything from this man - Jean-Jaqcues Leroy - who was able to see through him since the day they first met.

“Now calm down, chaton. Did something happen?”

“Yes.” Yuri combed through his blond locks with his fingers. “Obviously. Yakov's retiring.”

“He what?”

“I know. Even I couldn't believe it.” Yuri was fortunate that he was all alone; he could feel the tension in his entire body. The idea of a new capo famiglia excited and terrified him. He had wanted power for numerous reasons, and he would let no one stop him from achieving it.

Not even Viktor. Not even Mila, or anyone else.

Apparently, his ally knew this very well.

“All right then. I always do as you say, **_ma reine_ **. So who do you want to die?”


	2. Amazon Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Otabek gets hired as Mila's new soldier, but things are about to go awry.

If there's anything that Otabek was known for, it would be his steadfastness in doing what he was asked to do. To envious Mafioso he was merely acting like the lapdog of the old _capo familgia_ ; but to those who knew better, he was the Golden Boy - not only was it a pun on his name, but it was also because he was the most reliable of soldiers, someone whom you could always count on when you need help the most.

 

Of course, Otabek would like to continue his duties for the Feltsman family. Following Yakov's orders, he went out the next day, venturing the downtown area of the city in his Harley Davidson. He was personally assigned by the old capo to become Mila Babicheva's bodyguard, after announcing his plans of retiring from the position as _capo famiglia_. It was a duty which the boss could not entrust on anybody else but him, and Otabek himself knew the weight of the task placed upon his shoulder.

 

Otabek had no idea how long it will last. But he was certain that it would be no easy job, with all the possible threats in Mila’s life at this point. He even considered the thought of Yuri Plisetsky – his own friend, almost like a brother – being the one to plot her demise. The youngest of the Feltsmans’ _caporegimes_ , after all, was infamous for his hunger for power and his extreme ruthlessness, which spared no one.

 

The Amazon Lily opens at night, so it was lacking its vibrant lights that morning. Still, the giant cursive letters of the overhead sign, along with the black silhouette of an anonymous lady holding the flower for which the establishment was named after, was more than enough to capture the eyes of passers-by. Somehow Otabek found the bar’s name to be quite suitable to its owner’s reputation. Amazon Lily was a beautiful and fragrant flower, but entirely poisonous when taken in.

 

Otabek parked across the road. According to the old capo, Mila was staying in a flat just above the bar that she owns. He eyed the building for a moment, pondering on what to do once he knocked on her door. Realizing that there was no point in dilly dallying, he decided to walk towards the bar.

 

It seemed that the only available way to get into the apartment was through the front entrance. Strangely enough, the doors of Amazon Lily were unlocked; carefully he opened them, and made his way inside.

 

As expected, the bar was entirely empty of people, and it lacked all the sounds and lights that usually gave it life. But he noticed that the red-haired Mafioso certainly inherited the Don’s taste in interior design - the place was reminiscent of a speakeasy back in the old fun days of the Prohibition era, but with a more modern flair. Booths were aligned neatly on one side; leather chairs surrounding round tables of polished wood. There was a wide space in the middle of them all, and a stage where the disc jockey and the performers should have been. Of course, there was the bar itself - a long marble counter lined with cocktail chairs, behind it a large shelf holding an impressive number of items. There were the glasses and other utensils, and of course, bottles of liquor of all kinds.

 

Otabek glanced around; he wondered if Mila was entirely on her own, if there were other people inside. His instincts were on high all of a sudden.

 

**_Had Viktor already made his move? What about Yuri?_** Questions kept on running in his mind, each thought becoming worse every single time. Years of living with the Feltsmans had taught Otabek to expect the worse of the worse, and now he was doing exactly the same. He was expecting an enemy.

 

There was a creaking sound, and reflexively he turned around to where it came from, his hand on the pistol hidden underneath his leather jacket. The sound was actually coming from the front doors opening, and sure enough there was a tall man standing at the entrance.

 

He was a head taller than Otabek, with honey blond hair and eyes green like the forest. They met Otabek's calculative dark brown orbs in wonder.

 

“May I help you?” The tall man asked the soldier, one eyebrow raised in suspicion. “We're currently closed, so I am pretty sure you aren't here for a drink.”

 

“You work here?” Otabek replied. He subtly removed his hand from his jacket. “Where's the owner?”

 

“Right here.” Mila’s voice echoed throughout the room, making both men turn towards her. She was leaning against the doorway that was barely hidden, just past the area where the stage was located.

 

She had looked attractive in her simple but edgy outfit yesterday, but Mila in her barely clothed glory was more sinfully alluring. She was covered up with a black silk robe, which she left untied, barely hiding anything underneath. The negligee that she was wearing was red like blood and passion, with black lace starting from the neckline narrowing down between the curves of her bosom, before spreading across the front torso. Wrapped around her legs was a pair of thigh high stockings with thin black garter straps. A pair of black high heels completed the look, sexy and classy, almost as if she was a high class courtesan that kings and nobles many other great men had hopelessly desired back in the day.

 

Seeing her look that morning, Otabek found himself confused as to what to feel. Somehow he knew he should be appalled by her scandalous attire, but he could not help but stare. There was something about Mila Babicheva's charm that captures the attention of every man, though he himself couldn't quite grasp what it was. It might be the combination of power and beauty merged into one persona. Maybe she was just experienced in using her seductive allure.

 

Maybe Otabek was just simply captivated by her.

 

Mila, however, seemed displeased upon seeing him. It seemed like she was having an awful morning, with the way her ocean blue eyes glared at Otabek. She walked towards him, and the staccato of her every step was quick and angry.

 

“I know I said that you're hot, but that doesn't mean I am allowing you into my bed, Otabek Altin.” She quipped, but in a threatening tone, quite contrary to the flirty voice she had given him yesterday.

 

“That's not what I came for,” Otabek replied. He was actually shocked that she thought he was visiting her for such reasons. Then again he trespassed into her establishment without her knowledge. “The capo famiglia ordered me to come here.”

 

“Ugh.” Mila rolled her eyes in annoyance. “I already said that I am not interested in inheriting the position.”

 

“That doesn't mean you are going to be safe from harm. Boss wants to make sure you - “

 

“I can take care of myself, thank you.” Mila smiled icily at him. “Kindly show him where the exit is, Chris.”

 

“My pleasure.” The tall man, Chris, answered.

 

“I won't leave,” Otabek said firmly. “I’m assigned to protect you.”

 

Mila stared at him for a moment. She then gave a laugh, hearty and almost contagious, as if the best soldier in her family had make the best joke ever. Smiling, she approached him, and she gently caressed his chin.

 

“You are Papa’s most precious soldier. Even I think you are _so good_ ,” she told him. “But can you even defend yourself from me? Because I highly doubt it.”

 

* * *

 

 

The dance floor was made of large black and white square tiles. Otabek stepped on them gingerly, testing the friction. But he wasn't going to dance that day.

 

**_How did I even get myself into this kind of trouble?_** He asked himself. He was already standing there before he could even realize it.

 

Facing him was none other than the boss lady herself. Mila kept on her robe and her negligee, and she just stood before him impatiently, with arms folded across her chest. Chris was sitting at the edge of the stage, watching them in amusement.

 

“You’re my charge,” Otabek spoke, hoping to get some sense into Mila’s mind. “There's no way I would harm you.”

 

“Oops, you shouldn't have said that.” Chris commented in a singsong voice. “Bad idea.”

 

Otabek was about to ask what that meant, but Mila, quick in movement and deadly in striking, decided to bless him with a high kick before he could even say a word.

 

God, stiletto heels hurt. Otabek felt the sharp impact on his jaw in an instant.

 

“Take me seriously, Golden Boy,” Mila said. “I didn't become a _caporegime_ just by being sweet and pretty.”

 

Otabek frowned. He had finally understood what made the red haired woman tick. To Yakov, protecting Mila may be an act of familial affection, but it was crushing her pride as a high ranking Mafioso.

 

The least he could do was to prove that he was worth keeping by her side.

 

Mila attacked once again, this time with a punch. Otabek narrowly missed getting hit in the jaw once again. He was able to grab her right arm, and hurl her onto the floor, making her gasp in shock and blunt pain.

 

Chris, the only audience to see the show, whistled under his breath.

 

But Mila was quick to recover. She swung her leg underneath Otabek and in one swift kick, she knocked him down and caught him off guard. She was on top of him before he could even realize it, her thighs pinning his torso, to keep him from moving.

 

Right under the mercy of the red haired caporegime, Otabek received multiple punches, which he tried to deflect. Mila pommeled him with her fists and even elbowed him at least twice. Otabek had to receive hard blows before he was able to grab her hand. Finding the strength to change the outcome of the fight, he forced the both of them to roll over, with Mila pinned underneath him in a rather suggestive position. With the way her legs spread open and the  way he put his weight on her just to keep her from moving, it was almost as if he was about to take her.

 

Otabek was on all fours, holding down Mila’s hands above her head. “Stop this,” he gritted his teeth in frustration.

 

“Nope,” Mila replied. Unable to use her hands, she took the opportunity of their extremely close bodies to use her head - literally - to get him off of her. The headbutt had Otabek standing up and moving backwards, but he had another thing coming. He felt Mila place her legs over his shoulders in one swift movement.

 

Otabek had remembered that each of Yakov's children was proficient in martial arts. But Mila was a special case - she was a gifted athlete, and was quite more dedicated to her art compared to her brothers. She had studied jujitsu when she was 4years old, and during her teenage years she had even gone to the Southeast Asia to learn Vovinam.

 

Simply put, it was an apparent loss for Otabek since the beginning.

 

Mila twisted her body in the air as she reflexively maneuvered herself to do a takedown. Otabek ended up knocked down on the floor, struggling to get her legs off his neck. But Mila would not budge; she was enjoying the thrill of defeating the family's most favorite soldier, and it felt so good.

 

Once she was satisfied that her opponent no longer has the strength to fight back, Mila let him go. Otabek rolled on his back, coughing and gasping for breath. It was pretty clear that the caporegime won over the soldier.

 

“See?” Mila smiled triumphantly at him. “I can handle myself very well. Now get your sexy ass up and go back home.”

 

She stood up and walked towards the stage where Chris was.

 

“Are you sure about this?” Chris asked her. “He came here under the orders of the Boss.”

Mila arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you asking because you care, or you just want me to hire a hot guy?”

“Well, I won't deny that we would be hitting two birds with one stone.” Chris smiled suggestively.

 

Mila could only smile in response. Chris couldn't help it; he’s working at the Amazon Lily which consisted mainly of female employees.

 

“Lead him outside, okay?”

“Leave it to me.” Chris’s eyelashes, long and thick and beautiful like a camel’s, blinked at her innocently.

 

Mila was about to go leave, to finally go back to her bed and have the rest she deserved. But there was a clicking sound, something which foretold a bad omen. Mila whipped her head around, she there she found Otabek on one knee, pointing a gun at her.

 

It was a Sig P220 carry .45 ACP handgun, something that was easy to carry and conceal but just as deadly as any other firearm. She had seen him aim that weapon on others before, had watched him shoot down a man or two using it. In Otabek’s hand even the smallest gun can become so dangerous.

 

“What a dick move,” she said spitefully. “So much for you being a ‘trustworthy’ guy,”

 

“I’m just making a point,” Otabek replied as he stood up. “If it’s someone else holding this and there was nobody around to protect you, you would have been dead.”

 

Mila was just about to argue against him for his statement, but there was a ringing sound that came out of nowhere. She glanced at Chris, who pulled his slim black phone out of his pocket.

 

“It's the Boss,” Chris told her, and he handed out the phone to her.

 

Mila took the phone, sliding a thumb over the screen, and placed the gadget against her ear afterwards.

 

“It's me.” she said while eyeing Otabek suspiciously.

 

“Mila? Why on earth wouldn't you answer my call?” Yakov’s voice crackled through the line.

 

“Sorry, I’m downstairs with Golden Boy. I left my phone in my room.”

 

“Otabek is already there?” The old capo sounded satisfied. “Good. I called because I would like to inform you that he’ll stay over there for the meantime.”

 

Mila was frozen stiff; she could not believe what she was hearing. “Excuse me?”

 

“He is moving in to your apartment. You have an extra room, if I remember correctly.”

 

“What? No! What are you talking about - “ Mila could see Otabek staring at her curiously, so she turned around to avoid his gaze. “Why are you doing this?” she hissed through the phone.

 

“It's a temporary arrangement, Mila. Besides, you seem to like him.”

 

“I like his looks, but not the overall package.” Mila sounded defiant. “And is this about your retirement? I already told you, I am not going to be the next _capo famiglia_.”

 

“Mila.” There was something about the change in Yakov’s tone that seemed strange; he actually sounded worried. “There's no telling what Viktor or Yuri can do to you. Even Georgi cannot be trusted at this point. That's why I want you to be careful. And I want someone reliable to keep you safe at all times.”

 

Mila had no idea how to deal with such situations. She was used to taking care of herself; she was more capable than any other mafioso with their own group of soldiers could ever be. Mila never asked for a protector, and she never would be. Then again, this was Yakov that was asking her to hire Otabek. Even with him on the verge of retirement, he was still the capo famiglia and his word is law. And his words made sense; with Viktor, Yuri and Georgi vying for the position, there was no way she would be safe at this point.

 

“Fine.” Mila said, after a few minutes of thinking. “I will hire him - but only until you choose the new capo.”

 

She could hear Yakov’s sigh of relief. “Thank goodness I can still talk some sense into you.”

 

“I will kick him out if I find him useless.”

 

“Do what you want, Mila. I’m hanging up.”

 

And there was a beeping sound. Mila returned the phone to Chris, who stared at her in wonder. She could also feel Otabek’s curious gaze. She glared at him over her shoulder.

 

“Listen, Golden Boy,” Mila said. “You're staying at my home. For the meantime.”

 

* * *

 

Otabek was quick to understand what happened. The capo practically made his life easier by personally persuading Mila to hire him as her bodyguard. Unfortunately, there was still the threat that she would kick him out once she finds him lacking in capabilities. And that would be something which he would never allow – not just because he was being dutiful, but also because of his pride. Otabek loathed being called useless.

 

Mila was more placid towards him than last time, but all in all she simply ignored him. She did not care even if Otabek made her breakfast. She did not care if the top soldier of her family was basically becoming her butler, her slave, her house husband. It was apparent that she was still angry about the recent events that took place, from the retirement of the capo to Otabek getting assigned to protect her.

 

Otabek knew that the only way for him to stay was to actually be helpful, and so the first thing he did was to ask Christophe Giacometti, who was Mila’s confidante and was the bartender at the Amazon Lily.

 

“You want to work at the bar as well?” Chris asked. He looked honestly shocked by the soldier's request. The bartender knew very well how Otabek was doing his best to avoid disappointing Don Yakov Feltsman, and so he was shocked that the soldier was hoping to do more.

 

Otabek nodded. “It's the best way for me to show that I can actually be useful here.”

 

Chris could not suppress his laughter. It seemed that there was something about the Feltsmans’ top soldier applying for a low paying job that was extremely funny.

 

“I am serious about this.” Otabek wasn't even smiling.

 

“Oh, of course you are,” Chris replied offhandedly. “You're always serious.”

 

Otabek waited patiently for the other man’s response. Chris was busy cleaning up the wine glasses at the bar before the Amazon Lily opens at night.

 

“Shouldn't you ask her instead?” Chris spoke, referring to Mila. “She's your new boss, after all.”

 

“I tried, but she kept ignoring me.” Otabek replied sullenly. The red-haired caporegime surely was making his work harder.

 

Chris laughed again. His laughter was the kind that was pleasant to the ears; it was joyful and pure, as if he would never take delight in another person's misery.

 

“It will take time,” he told Otabek afterwards. “That's how she is. Mila easily get agitated when it's her pride that's at stake, but she's always kinder to hot guys like you.”

 

Otabek had to arch an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, don't you dare tell me you’ve never been hit on by women before…” Chris made a face. “I know you’re a serious kind of guy but surely you must have fooled around at some point?”

 

Chris was about to say some more, but he fell silent the moment Mila arrived. The red-haired _caporegime_ seemed to plan to open her business in her unusually conservative style, donning a royal blue turtleneck bodycon dress, matched with a pair of black high heels. Her sole accessory was a gold choker, without a pendant or any other sort of embellishment, just the glamorous metal shining against her neck.

 

“Planning to go somewhere, Boss?” Chris asked.

  
“Not really,” Mila answered. She was eyeing the door, as if she was looking forward to whoever was going to come in. “I’m just wondering if he’s going to come in here again.”

Chris eyed the door nonchalantly. “Knowing Michele’s stubborn streak, he will be here anytime soon.”

The name made Otabek’s head snap towards Mila. “The boss of the Crispino family visits you?”

“Why,” Mila gave him one of her flirty smiles, as if she hadn’t just tried to kick his ass a while ago. “Are you jealous?”

“Curious, more like.” Otabek replied. “Why would he visit you?”

Mila frowned – either she was displeased with him turning down what was supposed to be flirty banter, or she did not like him prying into her own business, he could never tell. “I welcome anyone in this bar,” she muttered.

”Don Michele Crispino has been bothering her for a while now,” Chris told him.

“Thank you very much for keeping my secrets well, Chris.” Mila glowered at the bartender.

Chris pouted at her indignantly. “He’s supposed to help keep you safe; might as well tell him about what the Crispino familgia wants from you.”

Mila pursed her lips in annoyance. It was apparent that she did not like the idea of sharing what was going on with her life, especially not to a soldier whose loyalty to her was yet to be proven. In the end she heaved a sigh, finally giving in.

“Michele Crispino’s sister has gone missing,” she began, “for almost a two weeks now.”

“And he’s here because he thinks you’re involved?” Otabek asked.

“More like he believes I’m hiding her somewhere,” Mila answered exasperatedly. “Sara is my friend, after all.”

“And he’s been coming here ever since?” Otabek frowned. “Is this the reason why you were late at the family gathering?”

“You’re supposed to be my bodyguard, not a detective.”

“I need to know whom I should keep an eye out for.”

“Very well,” Mila nodded at the door as it slowly opened. “I guess you should start with them,”

 

* * *

 

 

The first customers of the bar that night were a pair of well-dressed men in expensive black suits. One of them was a tall Caucasian man, blond and sporting a beard. He was obviously being an escort to the other man, who was a tad shorter in height and older in age.

Dark brown hair, smooth brown skin, and stunning violet eyes – even Otabek knew that this handsome man, despite his looks, must not be trifled with. Among the families in the criminal world, only Michele Crispino has the power that could match Yakov Feltsman.

Michele was also famous for his short temper, so it was a surprise when he arrived looking rather reserved, and weary.

“Don Crispino,” Mila greeted the Italian man graciously. “I take it that you did not bring your made men just like last time?”

Michele Crispino glowered at her. “It’s only me and Emil, and the chauffeur outside,” he told her.

“Well then,” Mila smiled. “You’d like to have a drink in one of the VIP booths?”

Michele nodded at Emil – a gesture that spoke a silent command, which the other man immediately understood – before he followed Mila into the private booth. Emil, with nothing else to do, decided to join Otabek and Chris at the bar.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you here,” Emil spoke to Otabek in such a familiar tone. It was nothing surprising; both of them had been serving their families since childhood, and they have seen each other quite often, especially when the Feltsmans and the Crispinos encounter each other at certain gatherings.

“He’s the new soldier of the boss,” Chris said to Emil.

Emil stared at Otabek, wide-eyed. “You no longer get along with Plisetsky?”

“I’ve been assigned by the Don here,” Otabek replied. “So you’ve been visiting here?”

“Yeah,” Emil chuckled. “Private matter. And the booze here is good.” He smiled at Chris. “You still have some Zelená for me?”

“Coming right up,” Chris immediately went to preparing the drink. Otabek glanced at the booth where Mila and Michele were. The two seemed to be in a deep conversation, and he could see the grim look on the red-haired caporegime’s face. Michele, on the other hand, looked resigned – the search for his sister must have taken a toll on his body.

“He’s been like that, for days,” Emil said.

Otabek turned to face him. “And nobody knows about it?”

“Your new boss told you?” Emil shook his head. “I told everyone who knows it to not say a single word. Mustn’t let the others know what’s going on, or they’ll take the opportunity to bring Mickey down.”

“And what will happen when this leaks out?”

Chris handed took out a bottle of the Czech liquor and poured it on a shot glass. Emil drank the green-colored spirit in one go.

“There will be hell to pay, of course.” He told Otabek afterwards.

 

* * *

 

 

Mila and Michele sat facing each other, with only a bottle of wine and two wineglasses on the table between them. She waited for him to speak; during the first few times that Michele came into the bar he seemed adamant and was definitely looking for a fight, but now he seemed exhausted.

“Not a single word from her yet?” Mila asked.

Michele, with every single day that he was unsuccessful in finding Sara, looked more and more miserable. “None,” he spoke, barely audible in the sound of the jazz music playing in the Amazon Lily that night.  “She disappeared, leaving nothing but a single note saying that she will be alright.”

“Of course, that would only make Don Crispino panic more,” Mila said, without derision. Being Sara’s friend, she of all people knew how she was loved by her brother. “It’s unfortunate that I have no idea where she is. She didn’t contact me either.”

“I now have an idea where she might be.”

“What?”

“It’s more of a suspicion, to be honest,” Michele heaved a weary sigh, then looked at her pleadingly.

Mila looked at those violet eyes, which were strikingly similar to his sister’s – they were desperate, but were also weak, as if his struggle was more than just about finding Sara.

“Michele, have you been to the doctor?” she could not help but ask. “You’ve been getting weaker these days…”

“I’m all right…” Michele answered stubbornly, though that only made Mila more suspicious. “Anyway, I’m suspecting the involvement of your brothers in this matter.”

This made the red-haired _caporegime_ arch her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

Michele frowned. “You seem to be unaware of their actions.”

“They’re a bunch of scheming bastards, but I don’t recall them getting involved with your family until now.” Mila glared at him. “So you better have some decent evidence before you start telling me they’ve done something.”

“Oh, it’s not just you who’s hoping that they didn’t get themselves involved in my sister's disappearance,” Michele spoke. Despite his currently unhealthy state, the tone in his voice was threatening. “I also wish that. Because god help them if they do…” he narrowed his eyes at her – that glint of wrath apparent in his beautiful irises, sent shivers down Mila’s spine.

“You too, Mila Babicheva. Just because you’re Sara’s friend doesn’t mean I will be kind to you once I discover your family’s involvement in her disappearance.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sara Crispino was not kidnapped. In fact, she left her brother on her out of her own will. Everything she did was for his sake, after all.

She was held hostage, but unlike what people would commonly assume she was actually in a great condition, if not better than what other victims would have experienced. She was currently in a penthouse suite in Montreal, waiting for salvation, or death – whichever would come to find her first.

Perched on the side of a king-sized bed, looking outside the tall glass windows, she wondered how her brother was doing. She was also hoping to set herself free – maybe she could try jumping from the topmost level of the tower which kept her prisoner. But she could not do it; not that she was afraid of death.

She was afraid for Michele’s life.

“I’m glad you did not try leaving me, _mademoiselle_.”

Sara turned her head around to find his captor leaning against the doorway. Jean-Jacques Leroy was smiling at her cheerfully, but it only made her skin crawl. She knew, that behind that dashing façade, was a fearsome enemy.

“You’re not tired of the view?” he asked her.

“Better stare at the window than at your face,” Sara snarled in rapid fire Italian.

JJ shrugged in response. “All I understand is that you’re saying something mean.”

He walked towards Sara, and sat beside her on the bed. JJ brushed a strand of hair away from her face. It should have been an affectionate gesture, but knowing his true nature, Sara could not help but flinch.

“What a good girl,” JJ murmured, “Doing all this for your beloved brother.”

“I don’t think you actually understand the importance of family.” Sara told him.

“Oh, I understand all of that, _ma chere_ ,” JJ stood up. “Family, love, all of that. That’s exactly why I’m doing this.”

“I’m afraid I’m not seeing your point. Why would you get my brother involved with whatever psychotic plan you’ve got?”

JJ glanced down, his blue-grey eyes meeting her violet orbs. Sara was used to reading other people’s expressions, and reading the expression on his face frightened her.

It was the honesty in those eyes that sent shivers down her spine. What was he actually thinking – kidnapping her, threatening her with a certain sickness which was slowly killing her brother, was actually an act of love? And for whom exactly? What kind of sick bastard would make someone like JJ commit such acts?

“I’m a doctor first, and a lover second,” JJ told her with a vague smile. “That’s all I have to say to you. Any more than that and you will die before your brother gets done in by the disease he unknowingly has.”

 

* * *

 

 

There was something satisfying about leaving Sara Crispino with a look of horror on her face. It made JJ feel good, although he wasn’t certain why – maybe it was the idea of making her feel hopeless, or maybe it was just his sadistic side kicking in.

He took out his phone from the pocket of his jeans, and dialed a number. He waited patiently until the ringing stopped, changing into that familiar voice which he loved.

“You’re late again,” Yuri spoke, but without much anger in his voice. JJ noticed it, of course; the blond Mafioso must be lounging in one of the Feltsmans’ protected shops, like that spa resort which he mentioned to him once.

“I just got home, chaton,” JJ replied while smiling, as if his lover could see him do so. “How’s your day?”

”Not fine, as always,” Yuri grunted. “You sound so happy. You did not torture that woman, did you?”

“What? No,” JJ chuckled, as if he had never done such thing before. “You know I never hurt women unless you say so, love.”

“I’m just trying to make sure that you don’t ruin my plans.”

“You mean _our_ plans.” JJ grinned from ear to ear. “I suggested the part where we kill Michele Crispino slowly as we distract him with Sara’s disappearance…”

“Yeah, and admittedly it’s an interesting shit coming from you.”

“It’s a win-win situation.” JJ walked towards a heavy door which was kept secured by a keypad lock. He pressed the numbers, and quickly entered when it was opened. It led him into a place which was reminiscent of an operating room. There was the operating table, and all the essential equipments, from the haemostatic forceps and surgical pinzettes to scalpels and bone cutters.

JJ had various visitors in here before, and some of them had experienced the marvels of each and every equipment. He was actually looking forward to use them on the Crispinos, but he had to wait for Yuri’s command.

**_In the_** ** _future, maybe he’ll give me the chance. A l'avenir_**. 

“You’re seeking leverage, I’m looking for a guinea pig. If I can heal him, he lives. If I fail…” JJ thought for a moment, wondering about the possible results of his medical experiment if it ever fails.

In the end, he couldn't come up with ideas, so he just shrugged. “Well, you simply have murdered the leader of one of the most powerful families in the criminal world, and that makes you a better candidate for the title of _capo famiglia._ ”

“Ugh.” It was the only thing that Yuri could say. This made JJ smile even more. He had done him a huge favor, and it felt wonderful; he loved that Yuri needs him, loved that Yuri was able to achieve great things because of him.

Heck, JJ would actually feel happy if Yuri asks him to make the world a bloody mess.

“Is there anything else you want me to do, _chaton_?” JJ asked.

“Yes,” Yuri replied. “In two weeks you’ll be flying to Italy. Take the woman with you.”

"Are we going to meet there?"

"Yes. And we'll proceed with our plans then."

JJ smiled in anticipation of something bloody exciting – literally. “I can’t wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jujitsu is a well-known martial art. It has various forms nowadays.  
> Vovinam is also a form of martial art – it’s practiced in Vietnam particularly as a form of self-defense during the World War.  
> As for the surgical tools…well, I haven’t researched much on it, but JJ will likely use a lot of them soon.
> 
> A l'avenir - in the future.
> 
> Zelena - a green liquor common in the Czech republic.

**Author's Note:**

> So I owe you an explanation of the Mafia rankings.
> 
> Capo familgia – the Boss (in this instance it would be Yakov). There is an even higher rank, like the boss of all bosses, but I just thought that that would be less realistic for this fanfic.  
> Caporegime – Captain or Lieutenant, like an underling (this would be Yakov’s children: Viktor, Yuri, Mila, and Georgi) but has authority over the soldiers  
> Soldier – lowest ranking among the members of the family, they have taken the ritual (called Omerta) and are the ones to do most of the dirty work. (In this chapter it would be Otabek and Yuuri)  
> Associate - outsiders working for or with the Mafia.  
> I am not sure how accurate this is, I just did a little research and I hope this would make sense of everything.
> 
> Also, I like my famiglia being savages to one another lel. Poor Otabek having to put up with all of them. 
> 
> I know they get OOC but I like my Mila aggressive and my Otabek observant. And I like my Yurio and Vitya as savages towards each other haha  
> Please leave a comment if you like it! I appreciate it!


End file.
